


the boyfriend paperwork

by somehowunbroken



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, The Worlds Incident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 21:04:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20279803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: Tyson's a drama queen, but Nateisthe one who gave him a four-inch scar on his thigh, so it's possible that Tyson's earned a little whining. Nate will let him have it, anyway.





	the boyfriend paperwork

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stormylullabye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormylullabye/gifts).

> we recently found out that nate's the one who was wrestling with tyson at worlds!! this sprang, fully formed, from my fingertips. i hope you enjoy it <3
> 
> thanks to T for a quick beta job and name suggestion!

"I cannot believe," Tyson starts, for what has to be at least the hundredth time.

"I said I was sorry," Nate protests yet again, and he backs up just in time to narrowly avoid Tyson swinging one of his crutches at him. "Hey!"

"You broke me," Tyson says. "You! My partner in crime! My other half!"

Nate sighs. "Are you still doped up on the meds they gave you when they did the stitches, or are you still mad at me?"

"Do I have to pick?" Tyson asks, scowling. "Come back over here so I can whack you with my crutches."

"If you break me, too, then Canada's gonna lose," Nate says as patiently as he can. "You don't want Canada to lose, do you?"

Tyson scowls harder. "What if you lose to the US? Don't lose to the US, Nate. EJ will be so smug. The smuggest."

"Yeah, you're still high," Nate decides. "We're not gonna lose to the US. Their team sucks."

"They do," Tyson says firmly. "USA Hockey is do or die, but they're all still alive, Nate. What does that mean?"

"That they're all doing each other instead of playing hockey?" Nate suggests.

Tyson blinks at him, and then he starts laughing so hard that he starts to tip over. He's already sitting on his bed, and he's mostly listing down towards it, so Nate just lets him do his thing. He's laughing hard enough that his face is turning colours, and Nate would be concerned, but it's pretty normal for Tyson's face. Nate's entirely familiar with everything about Tyson's face by this point.

"What if," Tyson wheezes out. "What if that's why they never win at Worlds? They're too busy hooking up, and then they're all come dumb and can't play."

Nate snorts. "I don't know if we really have the right to insult anyone else at this point," he says, gesturing to Tyson's leg. They taped gauze over the stitches at the hospital, and Nate has instructions on how and when to change it, because Tyson's not going to be up to doing it himself tonight. The nurse had very blandly warned him not to "instigate any strenuous activity" for at least a week, and Nate had just been getting rid of that particular blush, so of course it makes sense that his brain would remind him of the whole thing now just so he could start blushing all over again.

"But we win sometimes," Tyson protests, still laughing. "The US hasn't gotten gold since 1960."

"The fact that you know that fact off the top of your head even when you're this out of it is amazing," Nate says, shaking his head. He's smiling, though.

Tyson points at him. He's slumped on the bed, cheek pressed into the scratchy duvet, and he's grinning and red-faced from laughing. "I would still know that fact two bottles of wine in," he says. "One dose of painkillers isn't gonna rob me of the best chirping material I have on EJ."

"If that's the best chirping material you have on EJ, we need to talk," Nate says, laughing. "I have way better shit on EJ than the fact that his national team never wins this tournament he never plays in anyway."

"It's always good to have a fallback," Tyson says, wagging his finger. "Hey, Nate?"

"Hey, Tyson," Nate says.

"You know what?" Tyson asks, suddenly serious.

"What?" Nate asks.

"You should cuddle me," Tyson says, dropping his finger. "You broke me. I think that means you owe me some cuddles. It's probably in the paperwork."

"What paperwork?" Nate asks, bewildered. "The paperwork from the hospital is just about the antibiotics you have to take, and I made the nurse write down everything about taking care of the wound, too, because otherwise you'd bitch at me in the morning for not remembering the specific words she used."

Tyson's smile is soft. "The boyfriend paperwork," he says. "Even though it sounds like you're doing a good job at all that 'in sickness and in health' stuff already."

Nate laughs and sits down beside Tyson on the bed. "The boyfriend paperwork, huh? I don't remember signing that."

"You did," Tyson says, inching closer. "Verbal contract. Totally legally binding."

"I think the verbal contract you're talking about is a wedding, which we haven't had," Nate says. "That's where the sickness and health thing is. We're not there yet, but I'm getting a head start."

Tyson's laugh is quiet. "Good job," he says. "Ten out of ten. All the stars."

"Four stars?" Nate asks, grinning as Tyson groans at him. "Look, that's the best rating you have. I'll take all four proudly."

"I'll find a whole extra star to give you if you cuddle me," Tyson says. "C'mon, Nate. I'm tired and the painkillers are wearing off. Please?"

Nate runs his fingers through Tyson's hair. It's kind of a sweaty mess; they'd been wrestling, and then they'd been at the hospital, and Tyson's hair is too curly to do anything that could be described as "behaving" in the best of times.

"Let me change the gauze," Nate says. "Then I'll cuddle you."

Tyson hums and nods, and Nate gets up to get all the things from the bathroom. He goes as quickly as he can without possibly hurting Tyson further; the wound isn't going to heal neatly, and Nate frowns as he tapes the new gauze down. He takes a moment to put everything away before washing his hands and changing into his pajamas.

"Hey," he says quietly, climbing into the bed. Tyson's already beneath the covers, leg stretched out so he doesn't roll onto it in the night. "I'm sorry, Tys."

"I forgive you," Tyson says immediately. "Nate, c'mon. We were being dumb and it happened. It's fine."

Nate sighs. "You're gonna have a scar."

"So every time I see it, I'll think of you," Tyson says. "I'm not exactly upset about that."

"But," Nate starts.

"Nate," Tyson cuts in. "I promise I'll forgive you if you promise to stop apologising for it."

"I don't think that makes sense," Nate says, but he's starting to smile in the face of Tyson's irrepressible optimism.

"Too bad," Tyson says firmly. "Cuddle me, MacKinnon."

And well, Nate figures as he carefully wraps an arm over Tyson's stomach and brushes a kiss to his hair. It's the least he can do.

**Author's Note:**

> the fact about the US team sucking at worlds is completely true. usa hockey is do or die, and they have chosen to do each other. they sure aren't winning.


End file.
